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The  Natural  Laws  of  Musical 
Expression 

BY 

HANS  SCHMITT 

Professor  at  the  Vienna  Conservatory  of  Music 
Translated  by 

FRANCES  A.  VAN  SANTFORD 


PRICE  50  CENTS 


CHICAGO 

CLAYTON  F.  SUMMY,  220  WABASH  AVE. 

1904 


Copyright,  1894 
By  Clayton  F.  Summy 


(O 

cv? 

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THE  NATURAL  LAWS  OF  MUSICAL 
EXPRESSION-* 


I. 


LAWS  OF  FORCE 


IN  every  art  it  will  be  found  that  the 
effect  of  the  beautiful  can  be  referred 
to  certain  reasonable  causes ; other- 
wise beauty  would  not  be  worthy  of  that 
distinction  which  it  at  present  enjoys. 
Thus  the  beauty  of  musical  expression 
rests  upon  natural  laws  which  the  artist, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  observes. 

Even  in  the  delivery  of  a simple  succes- 
sion of  tones  of  equal  length,  and  lacking, 
possibly,  significance  of  pitch — as  for  ex- 
ample those  of  the  drum — this  requirement 
makes  itself  felt.  Our  ear  is  unable  to  lay 
hold  of  a prolonged  succession  of  one  sort 
of  tones  ; it  longs  for  some  orderly  arrange- 
ment; it  seeks  to  measure  or  to  count;  and 


4BR51 


4 


THK  NATURAI,  I.AWS  OF 


for  that  reason  we  are  better  pleased  with 
that  delivery  of  equal  tones  in  which,  at 
regular  intervals  of  time  (measures),  pri- 
mary and  secondary  accents  appear. 

But  if  the  same  kind  of  accent  is  contin- 
ued for  any  length  of  time,  our  organs  of 
hearing  grow  weary  ; we  demand  a change, 
and  it  is  this  demand  which  has  given  rise 
to  the  various  kinds  of  rhythm.  In  poetry, 
as  well,  one  finds  a change  of  meter  re- 
freshing. ' 

Still  greater  variety  is  displayed  in  the 
delivery  of  tones  of  varying  duration ; in 
such  cases,  especially  upon  the  piano,  the 
delivery  is  a matter  of  course.  The  tone  of 
the  piano,  at  first  strong,  gradually  grows 
weaker,  and  finally  ceases  entirely.  This 
fact  naturally  suggests  the  rule  that  when- 
ever uniform  strength  of  tone  is  indicated, 
each  long  note  should  be  struck  more  forci- 
bly than  the  shorter  ones,  since  otherwise 
its  prescribed  value  will  not  be  discernable 
at  the  end. 

But  when  a long  note  follows  short  ones, 
whether  it  is  so  indicated  or  not,  the  player 
should  lead  up  to  it  by  a mediating  crescendo 


MUSICAL,  EXPRESSION. 


5 


in  order  that  the  necessary  strength  of  the 
long  note  be  not  impaired.  In  like  manner 
it  is  evident  that  after  the  long  note  has 
been  struck  the  player  should  resume  the 
soft  touch,  in  keeping  with  the  then  dimin- 
ishing strength  of  the  long  note,  and  link- 
ing it  to  the  succeeding  one. 

When  we  consider  compositions  with  a 
motley  variety  of  notes,  as  for  example 
sonatas,  the  notes  seem  suddenly  to  grow 
animate  under  the  above-mentioned  laws  of 
expression  ; exhuberant  life  gushes  from 
every  measure;  we  behold  signs  for  delivery 
everywhere  in  ceaseless  variation,  provided 
by  the  notes  themselves.  The  expression 
alters  as  strikingly  as  does  a landscape 
when  suddenly  flooded  with  sunshine. 

(It  may  be  remarked  here  that  for  purely 
mechanical  reasons,  the  player  is  inclined 
to  the  opposite  style  of  delivery.  Because 
he  has  little  time  for  preparation  before  the 
long  note,  and  plenty  of  time  within  its 
duration,  he  strikes  the  long  note  which 
follows  short  ones  lightly,  and  those  which 
follow  the  long  one  forcibly.  This  mistake 
can  only  be  avoided  by  increasing  the  mus- 


6 


THE  NATURAI,  EAWS  OF 


cular  force  in  a ctescendo  culminating  with 
the  long  note,  and  thereupon  relaxing  the 
arm  while  the  long  note  is  held.) 

Still,  it  is  not  in  piano  music  alone,  but 
in  song  as  well,  that  the  longer  note  receives 
more  accent ; only,  the  singer  transfers  it 
to  the  middle  of  the  long  note,  while  the 
pianist  places  it  at  the  beginning — a fact 
which  is  not  suflSciently  understood  by  all 
composers.  Particularly  in  the  transcrip- 
tion of  vocal  compositions  for  the  piano, 
one  frequently  finds  false  signs  for  delivery. 
If  in  the  song  a crescendo  occurs  with  a long 
note  sustained  through  several  measures, 
the  transcriber  copies  the  crescendo  punctili- 
ously, without  stopping  to  consider  that 
such  a thing,  upon  the  piano,  is  impossible 
of  execution.  Even  original  compositions 
are  often  thus  carelessly  marked  ; for  ex- 
ample, the  twenty-fourth  measure  of  Men- 
delssohn’s fourth  ‘‘  Song  without  Words  ’’ 
contains  a decrescendo  to  the  long  note. 

One  of  the  most  common  laws  requires 
that  ascending  progressions  be  played  cres- 
cendo ; descending,  decrescendo.  This  law 
has  its  origin  in  song.  It  is  easier  for  the 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


7 


singer  to  produce  high  notes  loud  than  soft 
in  the  chest  register,  so  that  in  song  the 
practice  of  increasing  in  volume  as  the  voice 
ascended,  naturally  became  a rule. 

Now  we  require,  and  for  intelligible  rea- 
sons, that  musical  interpretations  shall  im- 
itate song  as  closely  as  possible.  All  music 
that  we  hear,  we  sing  in  spirit ; but  in  spirit 
we  like  to  sing  exactly  as  though  we  were 
singing  in  actuality.  Hence,  if  the  render- 
ing does  not  tally  with  the  laws  of  song  the 
inner  participation  is  made  difficult  for  us  ; 
we  are  not  able  to  follow  it  satisfactorily, 
and  on  that  account  the  rendering  impresses 
us  as  ‘‘cold’’  and  unsympathetic.  For  this 
reason  we  demand  for  everything  which 
moves  sufficiently  slow  to  admit  of  its  being 
sung,  exactly  the  same  delivery  as  if  it 
were  a song,  even  though  the  method  of 
producing  the  tones  differ  as  radically  as 
does  that  of  the  piano,  on  which  the  higher 
notes  require  less  strength  than  the  lower 
ones. 

Then  again,  harmonic  influences,  the 
nature  of  tone  combinations,  determine  the 
accent. 


8 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


The  diiBference  in  sound  of  different  inter- 
vals and  chords  is  utilized  by  the  composer 
in  expressing  a very  wide  range  of  emotions. 
Taken  as  a whole,  our  emotions  group 
themselves  into  two  classes, — the  satisfac- 
tory and  the  unsatisfactory.  The  first  are 
perfectly  expressed  only  in  the  major;  of 
joy,  happiness,  triumph,  there  is  none  in 
the  minor,  any  more  than  there  is  grief, 
melancholy,  revenge,  in  the  major. 

In  the  major,  as  in  the  minor,  there  is  a 
great  variety  of  intervals  and  chords.  In 
Palestrina’s  day  there  were,  it  is  true,  only 
the  major  and  minor  triads  ; but  soon  these 
limited  resources  did  not  suffice  for  compos- 
ers. Every  art  is  limited  by  the  materials 
with  which  it  works.  Richly  endowed 
spirits  so  exhausted  this  same  that  their 
successors  must  needs  have  come  to  a stand- 
still, unless  a progress  in  material  or  an 
alteration  of  the  art  form  had  interposed. 
In  music  this  holds  true  for  the  virtuosi  as 
for  composers.  Thus,  for  example,  Liszt 
and  Rubinstein  would  have  been  forced  to 
renounce  their  style  of  playing,  if  more 
durable  strings  had  not  been  invented. 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


9 


Richard  Wagner  could  never  have  written 
his  orchestra  scores  so  freely  in  all  keys 
with  equal  indifference  if  the  chromatic  me- 
chanical wind-instruments,  and  the  chro- 
matic kettledrums  had  not  been  invented. 
In  like  manner  there  was  needed  in  his  time 
a multiplication  of  interval  and  chord  com- 
binations to  insure  an  advance  in  musical 
composition.  First,  the  composers  added 
to  the  triad  of  the  fifth  degree  (in  c major, 
d-b  g)  another  third,  because  it  sounded 
best  \h^re,—f-d  b-g;  then  they  omitted  the 
lowest  tone  of  the  chord  and  patched  it  up 
with  another  third  on  the  summit ; thus 
they  built  a chord  of  four  tones  upon  b, — 
a-f-d-b,  a favorite  chord  with  Schumann. 
Then  they  moved  still  a third  higher,  upon 
d, — c^a-f-d,  a favorite  chord  of  Richard 
Wagner  ; and  lastly  they  moved  to  f, — 
e-c-a-f.  As  to  beauty  of  tone,  these  chords 
take  rank  in  precisely  the  order  given  above, 
but  the  composer  can  make  use  of  them  all. 
If,  for  instance,  he  wishes  to  set  the  words, 
‘‘^The  sun  blinded  him,’’  to  music,  the 
shriller  chord  of  four  notes,  e-c^a-f,  offers 


lo  THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 

him  incomparably  more  suitable  material 
than  the  chord  f’d-b-g. 

And  thus  the  numerous  intervals  and 
chords  which  have  fashioned  themselves  in 
music  have  their  complete  adaptation  ; they 
constitute  a set  of  tools  which  the  composer 
uses  to  attain  legitimately  certain  definite 
effects.  When  Schumann  begins  his  Fan- 
tasiestiick,  “Warum/’  with  the  chord  of 
the  fifth  degree  instead  of  that  of  the  first, 
he  thereby  insures  the  effect  of  interroga- 
tion. When  Meyerbeer,  in  the  “ Beggar’s 
Aria,”  allows  Fides  to  sing  a diminished 
third  in  the  passage  ” Oh,  my  son  !”  he  is 
as  certain  of  the  impression  intended  as  in 
Schubert’s  Serenade  the  passage  ”And  the 
heart  for  thee  is  yearning,”  is  certain  to 
give  rise  to  a feeling  of  longing,  through  the 
employment  of  the  augmented  triad — that 
patented  chord  of  yearning,  so  to  speak. 

With  regard  to  this  multiplication  of 
chords  be  it  here  observed  that  the  intro- 
duction of  new  chords  has  always  provoked 
strong  opposition,  and  that  contemporarie- 
ous  theorists  have  always  been  the  last  to 
recognize  these  innovations,  because  they 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


II 


were  at  variance  with  the  principle  which 
they  had  been  teaching  up  to  that  time. 
Their  successors,  already  wedded  to  these 
new  combinations,  discovered  the  logical 
warrant  for  the  same,  explained  and  sub- 
stantiated them,  and  so,  gradually,  they 
received  the  right  to  citizenship. 

This  wealth  of  chords  gives  rise  to  real 
and  practical  difficulties  in  the  artistic  ren- 
dering of  a composition  ; for  every  chord 
needs  to  be  treated  differently.  In  the  case 
of  dissonant  harmonies  the  expert  artist 
must  above  every  thing  know  and  feel  which 
is  the  dissonant  tone  ; this  he  must  bring 
into  relative  prominence,  in  order  that  it 
may  not  appear  as  an  accidental  misconcep- 
tion,— just  as  in  speech  every  daring  asser- 
tion which  is  hazarded  should  stand  forth 
with  a definiteness  sufficient  to  arouse  in  the 
hearer  a confident  expectation  of  later  sub- 
stantiation. When  this  actually  follows, 
the  hearer  has  the  same  sense  of  satisfaction 
which  is  produced  by  the  resolution  of  a 
musical  dissonance.  Since,  moreover,  every 
musical  dissonance  must  be  resolved,  the 
law  for  the  accentuation  of  dissonances  is 


12 


the  naturae  eaws  of 


already  indicated  in  the  study  of  harmony  ; 
for,  indeed,  every  resolution  (solution)  im- 
plies a decrease  in  the  density  of  the  mate- 
rial involved. 

If  we  compare  the  rhythm,  duration, 
pitch,  and  harmonic  character  of  the  tones, 
we  shall  find  that  the  necessity  for  accentu- 
ation increases  as  more  reasons  for  it  appear 
simultaneously.  If,  for  example,  a rhyth- 
mic note  is  at  the  same  time  long,  high  in 
pitch,  and  dissonant,  it  demands  an  accent 
for  ^hese  four  reasons.  In  compositions 
which  portray  natural  emotions  we  find  that 
the  coincidence  of  such  tonal  attributes  is 
of  frequent  occurrence. 

But  as  music  is  able  to  offer  to  each  one 
an  allegory  of  his  own  emotions,  the  form 
also  changes  with  its  representative  content. 
Thus,  it  accords  more  closely  with  the  re- 
quirements of  our  musical  sense  to  have  the 
long  notes  coincide  with  the  beginning  of 
the  measure  ; they  heighten  the  feeling  of 
security,  reliability.  When,  however,  it  is 
the  composer’s  intention  to  agitate,  to  ex- 
cite, he,  whether  consciously  or  uncon- . 
sciously,  places  the  long  notes  later,  to  that 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


13 


very  end.  This,  for  example,  is  the  effect 
of  the  long,  accented  notes  on  the  second 
beat,  which  follow  the  opening  bar  of  the 
Rakoczy  March  ; while,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  long  notes  at  the  beginning  of  the  major 
trio  in  the  same  march  impress  us  as  an 
agreeable  contrast. 

The  treatment  of  any  exceptional  dispo- 
sition of  tones  should  naturally  be  a corres- 
ponding one.  For  example,  when  a long 
note  appears  after  the  beginning  of  the 
measure,  both  are  to  be  accented  with  equal 
force — the  beginning  of  the  measure  because 
it  is  the  beginning,  the  long  note  because  it 
is  long;  but  should  the  long  note  be  dispro- 
portionately longer  than  the  note  at  the 
beginning  of  the  measure — a case  which 
occurs  frequently  in  Hungarian  music — 
then,  of  course,  it  should  be  accented  more 
strongly  than  the  beginning  of  the  measure, 
in  accordance  with  its  disproportionate 
value. 

For  example,  if  a descending  run  leads 
to  an  important  long  note,  as  in  the  fifty- 
eighth  measure  of  Weber’s  Concertstiick, 
the  run  must  be  played  crescendo^  notwith- 


14 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


Standing  its  direction.  But  should  the  note 
which  begins  a measure  be  followed  by  one 
of  equal  length,  both  notes  are  to  have  the 
same  accent — as  for  example,  in  Mendels- 
sohn^ s fourteenth  Song  without  Words.  If, 
however,  the  higher  note  is  at  the  same 
time  longer,  as  in  the  third  measure  of 
Beethoven’s  G-Major  Concerto,  it  should 
be  accented  more  than  the  note  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  measure,  because  two  con- 
siderations require  an  accent  on  this  note, 
and  but  one  on  the  first. 

Upon  a careful  consideration  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  above-mentioned  accents,  it 
readily  appears  that  none  of  them  is  with- 
out effect,  but  that  each  is  modified  by  even 
the  slightest  alterations  ; and  the  degree  of 
talent  in  the  artist  is  revealed  by  his  recog- 
nition and  treatment  of  such  occasional 
cases. 

Still,  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  artist 
is  forced  to  do  otherwise  than  the  .music 
matter  would  seem  to  demand.  If  we  at- 
tempt to  classify  the  more  important  and 
characteristic  styles  of  delivery  we  find  that 
they  may  be  best  described  by  the  terms 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


15 


natural,  tender,  soft,  powerful,  hard.  The 
“natural’  ’ would  be  that  mode  which  always 
corresponds  to  the  written  form  ; “soft”  is 
that  mode  which,  in  cases  where  power  is 
demanded,  uses  tenderness  ; “tender,”  that 
in  which  everything  has  a more  delicate 
rendering;  “powerful”  and  “hard”  form 
the  opposites. 

In  music,  as  well  as  in  oratory,  there  are 
often  exceptional  accents  required  by  a hard 
or  powerful  style  of  delivery.  Suppose  in 
his  drama  some  poet  represents  a mother 
as  saying,  ‘ ‘Though  the  whole  world  should 
rise  up  against  me  it  could  never  utter  this 
reproach — that  ! had  deserted  my  children !’  ’ 
Now,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the 
actress  would  give  the  word  this  a marked 
emphasis,  to  show  that  the  mother  takes  up 
the  gauntlet  which  is  flung  down  in  the 
first  part  of  the  sentence.  But  if  the  poet 
designs  to  represent  the  mother  as  resigned 
and  incapable  of  resistance,  then  the  de> 
cisive  word  this  should  be  pronounced  softly 
and  drawn  out  somewhat.  Such  excep- 
tionak  emphasis  should  be  directly  indi- 


i6 


THE  NATURAI,  EAWS  OF 


Gated  by  the  poet  to  avoid  misunder- 
standing. 

In  music  the  same  holds  good.  If,  for 
example,  long  notes  are  to  be  played  sud- 
denly soft,  after  a swift  succession  of  strong 
notes,  as  is  the  case  in  the  repetition  of  the 
first  movement  of  Beethoven’s  C-major 
Sonata,  the  composer  should  do  as  Beetho- 
ven has  done — write  the  pianissimos  down. 
But  should  the  player  make  such  an  altera- 
tion at  his  own  discretion,  he  may  rest  as- 
sured that  his  rendering  will  have  the  effect 
of  something  exceptional — in  the  above 
case  that  of  a smorzando — and  that  he  alone 
must  bear  the  responsibility. 

In  polyphonic  composition  it  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  that  the  melody  be 
brought  out.  The  nature  of  the  melody  is 
the  chief  means  of  determining  the  charac- 
ter of  the  music.  Italian  music  presents  a 
richly  ornamented  melody  upon  a simple 
harmonic  background ; German  music,  on 
the  contrary,  displays  a simple  melody  upon 
a rich  harmonic  background.  By  way  of 
illustration,  compare  the  air  ‘‘Casta  Diva  ” 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


17 


with  Mendelssohn's  first  ‘‘Song  without 
Words.” 

Whether  the  melody  is  Italian  or  Ger- 
man, it  must  be  brought  into  utmost  prom- 
inence, must  rise,  clear  and  distinct,  above 
the  accompaniment ; for  melody  is  to  music 
what  contour  is  to  drawing  ; where  the  con- 
tour is  effaced  nothing  is  left  but  a blot. 

As  a matter  of  course,  the  player  should 
possess  sufficient  ability  to  control  the  at- 
tack of  the  fingers.  If,  for  example,  he 
needs  to  play  both  strong  and  weak  simul- 
taneously with  the  same  hand,  he  should 
keep  the  tips  of  the  fingers  which  are  to  do 
the  strong  playing,  stiff ; all  the  others 
should  be.relaxed.  The  pianist  should  take 
care  not  to  accent,  for  merely  mechanical 
reasons,  notes  which,  for  example,  fall  upon 
the  black  keys,  simply  because  the  hand  in 
its  descent  naturally  strikes  the  black  keys 
more  heavily  ; nor  the  second  note  of  a skip 
merely  because  the  hand  has  made  a wide 
sweep  ; and  so  on. 

When  the  melody  ceases  or  pauses,  the 
accompaniment  should  advance  into  the 
foreground.  In  fugues,  the  subject,  with 


i8 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


all  its  modulations,  should  stand  out  clearly. 
When  the  subject  is  wanting  we  may,  as  a 
rule,  play  softer ; in  every  case  the  answers 
(imitations)  should  be  clearly  marked  ; and 
in  order  that  the  ear  may  be  prepared  for 
the  reentry  of  the  subject  and  answer,  the 
episode  should  be  given  special  prominence. 
The  so-called  augmentation  of  the  subject, 
in  which  the  notes  of  the  subject  appear 
doubly  long,  must  have  its  notes  played 
doubly  strong  to  correspond. 

Prolonged  note- values  also  demand  more 
of  an  accent ; as  for  example,  in  the  middle 
movement  of  Reinecke’s  charming  Im- 
promptu upon  a theme  from  “ Manfred.” 

The  melody  sounds  most  distinct  when 
the  accompaniment  is  played  staccato,  or 
upon  a stringed  instrument  pizzicato, 
latter  style  is  frequently  imitated  upon  the 
piano — thus,  for  example,  in  the  Concert- 
stuck  of  Weber,  measures  twenty-five  to 
thirty-one,  or  in  Mendelssohn’s  B-minor 
Capriccio,  Op.  22,  measures  five  to  eleven.. 

The  form,  also,  has  a not  unimportant 
bearing  upon  the  accentuation. 

Repetitions,  especially  short  ones,  of 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


19 


which  every  tone  is  still  fresh  in  memory, 
should  not  be  played  exactly  like  the  origr 
inal.  When  a thing  is  presented  to  us 
twice  in  precisely  the  same  way,  the  im- 
pression produced  is  different  each  time, 
because  the  second  time  we  have  back  of 
us  the  experience  of  the  first.  Accordingly, 
if  we  have  perfectly  grasped  the  meaning 
of  a passage  the  first  time,  its  immediate 
repetition  in  precisely  the  same  fashion  ap- 
pears to  us  as  superfluous. 

Hence  we,  for  the  most  part,  prefer  to 
hear  the  passage  the  second  time  a little 
softer  than  the  first.  In  long  repetitions 
an  altered  reproduction  is  less  imperative, 
because  the  memory  is  not  as  active  as  in 
shorter  passages. 

Sometimes  the  player  has  to  render  trans- 
scriptions  of  orchestral  compositions  upon 
the  piano  ; then  he  will  need  to  imitate  the 
tonal  power  of  the  original  instruments — 
wind  instruments,  even — and  should  play 
with  considerable  force  even  when  a piano 
is  indicated. 

The  player  has  also  occasionally  to  imi- 
tate outward  and  natural  phenomena,  such 


20 


THE  NATURAIy  EAWS  OF 


as  a mill,  a thunderstorm,  a fall  of  water,  a 
rippling  brook,  the  song  of  the  nightingale. 
In  these  cases  the  player  must  strive  to 
represent  what  can  only  with  difficulty  be 
expressed  by  notes.* 


* Fortunately  he  cannot  hope  to  imitate  that  horrible 
mannerism  of  many  singers—the  tremolo.  With  a pang  of 
envy  he  may  leave  that  to  the  more  accomplished  goats. 


MUSIC AIv  EXPRESSION. 


21 


II. 

LAWS  OF  VELOCITY. 

It  is  commonly  said  that  ‘‘Time  is  the 
soul  of  music.''  It  would  be  more  correct 
to  say  that  time  is  the  pulse  of  music;  for 
time,  like  the  pulse,  only  indicates  the  de- 
gree of  emotion.  The  kind  of  emotion  is 
expressed  by  harmonic  agencies,  by  depth 
and  color  of  tone.  Time  is  accordingly 
only  a register  of  the  soul,  not  the  soul  it- 
self, which  is  indeed  the  sum  of  all  emo- 
tions. But  just  as  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  physician  to  be  able  to  dis- 
cover the  reason  why  the  pulse  runs  higher 
or  lower,  so  must  the  musician  ask  the 
question  why  the  tempo  is  to  be  taken  now 
faster,  now  slower. 

In  the  first  place,  it  is  the  harmonic  basis 
of  a piece  which  determines  the  grade  of 
tempo. 

The  more  related  chords  underlie  a mel- 
ody, the  more  rapidly  may  the  tempo  be 
taken;  just  as  in  the  use  of  figurative  lan- 
guage, common  comparisons  may  have  a 


22 


I'HE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


quick  Utterance.  Someone  says,  ‘‘Today 
it  is  as  hot  as  an  oven,*^  and  he  can  rattle 
off  the  phrase  without  incurring  the  danger 
poet  of  being  misunderstood.  But  when  the 
says,  “Thou  art  like  unto  a flower,  so  holy, 
fair,  and  pure,”  the  listner  must  have  time 
between  the  phrases  to  make  the  compari- 
son between  the  maiden  and  the  flower.  If 
the  figure  is  an  appropriate  one  he  finds  it 
beautiful;  yet  if  time  for  the  comparison  has 
no.t  been  granted  him  he  indeed  hears  the 
words,  but  does  not  understand  the  sense. 

It  is  precisely  so  in  music;  closely  related 
chords  may  follow  swiftly  upon  each  other. 
The  Champagne  Song  in  Mozart’s  “Don 
Juan”  could  never  be  sung  with  so  much 
jollity  if  it  were  founded  on  other  than  the 
simplest  chords — triads  of  the  first  and  sec- 
ond degree,  the  chords  of  the  mouth  har- 
monica. On  the  other  hand,  the  wonder- 
ful depth  of  meaning  in  the  relation  of  the 
chords  of  the  Pilgrim  Chorus  from  “Tann- 
hauser”  can  only  be  grasped  in  a suitably 
slow  tempo. 

Is  there  a change  in  the  inner  harmonic 
groundwork  of  a piece,  the  tempo  must 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


23 


usually  alter  with  it.  So,  for  example,  the 
first  movement  of  the  “Waldstein  Sonata” 
of  Beethoven,  Op.  53,  beginning  with  the 
thirty*  fourth  measure,  should  be  taken 
more  slowly,  and  the  A-minor  Sonata  of 
Schubert,  Op.  42,  from  the  ninth  measure 
on,  be  played  faster  than  at  the  beginning. 

If  it  is  necessary  to  moderate  the  tempo 
even  when  the  chords  belong  to  the  same 
key,  how  much  more  necessary  is  it  with 
modulations  (transitions)  into  other  keys. 
A key  is  like  a road;  so  long  as  one  keeps 
to  the  same  road  one  does  not  need  to  vary 
his  speed  because  of  the  road;  but  when  one 
decides  to  change  his  direction  one  involun- 
tarily walks  with  dallying  step  until  he  has 
definitely  entered  upon  the  new  road.  Es- 
pecially in  the  so-called  enharmonic  chan- 
ges, the  musician  finds  a restraint  imposed. 
In  them  a chord  which  has  the  same  sound 
in  two  different  keys  is  suddenlj’^  drawn  into 
the  second  key,  and  following  its  lead,  the 
passage  proceeds  in  the  new  key.  In  such 
a case  the  player  should  hold  the  transition 
chord  somewhat  longer,  in  order  that  the 
listener  may  have  time  to  lose,  to  some  ex- 


24 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


tent,  the  impression  of  the  former  key,  as 
well  as  to  waken  his  expectation  that  some- 
thing in  particular — the  new  key — is  about 
to  follow.  Thus,  for  example,  the  en- 
harmonic changes  in  the  tenth  measure  of 
the  piu  mosso  of  Chopin's  C-sharp-minor 
Polonaise  require  the  utmost  deliberation. 

However,  when  the  same  mode  of  mod- 
ulation is  adhered  to  uniformly  through 
several  keys,  the  result  is  totally  different. 
Here  again  we  find  our  analogy  in  speech. 
If  we  should  have  occasion  to  say,  “I  did 
thus  and  so,  not  for  this  one  reason  only, 
but  for  a second,  third,  fourth,  fifth  rea- 
son/' we  would  not  pronounce  the  num- 
bers following  one  another,  with  uniform 
speed.  In  every  period  composed  of 
phrases  which  are  thus  similar  in  form, 
the  speaker  becomes  more  hurried,  more 
impassioned. 

It  is  precisely  so  in  music.  In  playing, 
for  instance,  measures  nine  to  eighteen  of 
the  second  intermezzo  from  Schumann's 
Kreisleriana,  No.  2,  we  should  accelerate 
exactly  as  in  the  above  example.  With 
each  fresh  repetition  the  modulation  is 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


25 


more  easily  grasped,  and  for  that  reason 
we  demand  that  each  new  sequence  shall 
be  played  more  rapidly. 

Sequences  (recurrences  of  similar  chord 
progressions),  when  they  are  repeated  in 
the  same  key,  and  still  more  when  they 
are  repeated  in  different  keys,  afford  an 
important  medium  for  the  portrayal  of 
passion.  The  most  salient  characteristic 
of  passion  is  precisely  this  same  obstinate 
adherence  to  one  and  the  same  thing.  If 
we  persist  in  the  same  chord  succession 
and  increase  the  rapidity  of  its  execution, 
it  becomes  the  symbol  of  passion. 

The  use  of  the  sequences,  so  frequent 
now,  forms  a line  of  separation  between 
the  older  school  of  music  and  that  of  the 
present;  they  have  infused  an  intensity  of 
passion  into  our  music  which  formerly 
was  not  and  could  not  have  been  present 
to  the  same  degree.  The  older  composers 
laid  down  for  themselves  a rule  that  the 
same  use  of  chords  could  not  be  made 
oftener  than  twice,  or  at  most,  three  times  ; 
hence,  every  sequence  became  a sign  of 
poverty  for  composers.  As  a result  of  this 


26 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


Strict  rule  their  compositions  maintained  a 
uniformity  of  tempo  which  we  call  classic 
repose.  There  was  seldom  occasion  to 
accelerate.  This  barrier  is  now  removed. 

Composers  have  no  longer  need  to  avoid 
the  sequence. 

Even  Mendelssohn  in  his  day,  com- 
plained in  a letter  to  Moscheles  that  he 
could  not  succeed  in  conducting  an  adagio 
slowly  to  its  end.  The  most  striking  proof 
of  this  self  accusation  is  found,  perhaps,  in 
the  beautiful  first  movement  of  his  F-minor 
Fantasie,  Op.  28.  Originally,  this  was 
called  the  Scotch  Sonata.  Mendelssohn 
evidently  changed  the  title  for  the  sole 
reason  that  the  movement  turned  out  too 
unsteady  for  it. 

Chopin  and  still  more  Schumann,  Wag- 
ner, and  Liszt,  almost  all  the  more  recent 
composers  with  a few  exceptions — notably 
Brahms — cannot  get  on  without  sequences; 
sequences  reflect  the  spirit  of  our  age. 

Beethoven,  it  is  true,  employed  the  se- 
quence, but  he  treated  it  for  the  most  part 
dramatically.  For  example,  he  takes  two 
sequences  loud,  two  soft,  using  a different 


27 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


instrumentation  each  time,  as  at  the  close 
of  the  first  movement  of  this  C-minor 
Symphony.  Dealt  with  in  this  way,  the 
sequence  becomes  truly  dramatic;  it  becomes 
two  persons  or  characters  who  alternate 
with  each  other,  and  of  whom  one  is  strong, 
the  other  weak. 

But  under  our  present  mode  of  treatment 
the  sequence  is  one  person  who,  little  by 
little,  works  himself  up  into  a passion. 
The  music  of  today  has  thus  grown  more 
subjective,  and  in  this  respect  it  is  part  and 
and  parcel  of  our  age.  The  strenuous 
struggle  for  existence  which  on  all  sides  is 
to  be  waged  in  a close,  hand-to-hand  com- 
bat, engenders  subjectivity,  nervousness ; 
and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  that  music 
shows  this  peculiarity,  as  in  a mirror.  If  a 
great  encyclopedist,  referring  to  mythology, 
could  say  that  mankind  has  made  the  gods 
in  his  own  image,  we  can  certainly  make 
the  same  assertion  with  regard  to  art. 

Assuredly  the  spirit  of  the  age  is  not 
without  its  influence,  and  it  could  not 
have  been  a mere  accident  that  the  age  of 
the  corporation  and  commonwealth  found 


28 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


the  musical  embodiment  of  its  mode  of 
thought  in  the  fugue.  In  the  fugue  and 
canon,  liberties  in  tempo  are  not  admissible 
as  in  homophonic  compositions.  Homo- 
phonic  compositions,  as  the  name  implies, 
contain  only  one  melodic  voice,  progressing 
independently;  therefore  they  can  be  played 
with  more  “freedom.’'  Here  melody  is 
queen ; all  the  other  voices  are  her  subjects, 
and  if  her  court  is  a brilliant  one,  as  with 
Chopin  and  Wagner,  and  even  if,  as  in 
their  case,  she  reigns  over  such  intelligent 
subjects  that  she  must  allow  them  to  put  in 
their  word  now  and  then — still,  melody  is 
the  queen,  and  all  the  other  voices  accom- 
modate themselves  to  her  needs,  her  moods, 
her  caprices.  It  is  otherwise  in  strict  poly- 
phony, in  figures  and  canons.  The  fugue 
is  a commonwealth  in  which  all  voices  are 
rated  equal.  One  of  the  most  obvious  re- 
quirements in  common  life  is  to  be  allowed 
to  eat  when  one  is  hungry.  But  if  every- 
one were  to  insist  upon  eating  just  when  he 
pleased,  the  orderly  arrangements  of  the 
family  would  be  broken  up.  Just  so  little 
is  it  admissible  in  music  for  one  voice  to 


MUSICAI.  EXPRESSION. 


29 


spread  itself  out  at  the  expense  of  the 
others. 

And  still,  even  in  the  fugue,  the  spirit  of 
the  age  has  not  passed  by  without  leaving 
its  impress.  Mendelssohn's  most  beautiful 
piano  fugue  (E  minor,  Op.  35,  No.  i)  be- 
gins andante  espressivo^  and  proceeds  acceU 
erando  to  prestissimOy  a thing  unheard  of 
before;  and  Eiszt's  Hungarian  Coronation 
Mass,  a work  for  which  I cherish  the  great- 
est respect,. swarms  with  accelerandi.  So,  it 
seems,  one  cannot  even  pray  calmly  as  of 
old. 

That  Chopin  employed  sequences  in 
great  numbers  is  easily  accounted  for  by 
the  fact  that  the  majority  of  his  composi- 
tions were,  in  the  main,  improvisations. 
When  he  composes  upon  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  even  the  most  richly  inventive 
musical  genius  finds  the  need  of  some 
makeshift;  less,  perhaps,  on  the  organ  or 
harmonium,  however,  because  the  player 
can  hold  the  last  chord  until  he  has  evolved 
a new  thought.  But  upon  the  piano,  where 
a break  of  that  sort  is  easily  noticed,  some 
other  expedient  must  help  him  out.  As 


30 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


such,  appears  the  repetition  of  the  same 
passage ; and  lest  this  attract  attention,  he 
transposes  it,  and  meanwhile  meditates 
upon  new  turns.  In  the  fantasie,  accord- 
ingly, the  old  theories  were  tolerant  enough 
to  admit  sequences.  When  these  occur  in 
fantasies  of  the  older  composers,  they  may 
be  treated  more  freely,  like  those  of  Chopin. 
Thus  one  may  accelerate  in  the  second 
tempo  of  the  C-minor  Fantasy  (with  the 
Sonata)  from  the  thirty-third  to  the  forty- 
fifth  measures  of  the  first  allegro. 

A passage  in  which  one  may  accelerate 
somewhat  is  found  in  all  first  and  last 
movements  of  sonatas.  It  is  called  the 
elaboration  of  the  subject  of  theme  (Durch- 
fiihrungssatz)*  and  always  follows  the 
repetition ; during  it  the  two  themes  of  the 
preceding  movement  contend  for  the  mas- 
tery, until  the  first  theme  appears  as  victor. 
The  heat  of  the  combat  is  for  the  most 
part  represented  by  sequences ; the  more 
numerous  the  sequences  the  fiercer  rages 

* This  portion  is  often  called  the  “ free  fantasia” — surely 
an  unfortunate  name,  as  “ fantasia”  suggests  rather  an 
entire  movement  than  a part  of  one.— Grove’s  Dictionary 
OF  Music. 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


31 


the  combat.  Our  tendency  to  increase  the 
speed  in  such  places  finds  support  in  the 
cnrrent  rule  which  enjoys  a ritardando 
before  the  reentry  of  the  theme.  Since  the 
theme  is  taken  in  the  same  tempo  as  at 
first,  it  is  evident  that  we  are  to  slacken 
our  speed  because  we  have  previously  played 
too  fast. 

The  influence  of  the  harmonic  structure 
upon  the  tempo  is  not  apparent  in  the  case 
of  sequences  alone.  As  in  walking  we  slow 
our  pace  whenever,  through  some  opening,' 
a new  prospect  is  disclosed  to  our  view,  so 
in  playing  we  like  to  take  any  new  key  as 
it  occurs,  more  leisurely,  in  order  to  take 
it  in.  The  C*sharp-major  passage  in  Schu- 
bert^s  A-flat-major  Impromptu,  Op.  90; 
the  B-flat-major  passage  in  the  first  move- 
ment of  the  G-major,  the  C-flat-major  pas- 
sage ,in  the  first  movement  of  the  E-flat- 
major  Concerto  of  Beethoven,  lose  entirely 
their  dreamy  character  if  the  tempo  be 
taken  quite  as  slowly  before  them  as 
afterwards. 

Changes  from  major  to  minor  may  be 
prepared  by  means  of  a suitable  ritardando 


32 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


The  clever  trick  through  which  a great 
painter  changes  a laughing  face  to  a weep- 
ing one  by  a single  stroke  of  his  brush  is 
easily  paralleled  in  music  by  repeating  a 
major  passage  immediately  in  the  minor. 
With  Schubert,  the  childlike  composer, 
with  whom  laughter  and  tears — major  and 
minor — are,  so  to  speak,  in  the  same  sack, 
we  meet  such  abrupt  changes  in  great 
numbers.  They  can  only  be  softened  by 
means  of  a tempering  ritardando  between 
the  two  moods,  and  by  taking,  as  is  usually 
done,  the  minor — the  more  gloomy  and  sad 
of  the  two — rather  more  quietly. 

A noteworthy  illustration  of  this  occurs 
in  the  familiar  A-minor  Waltz  of  Chopin — 
the  repetition  of  the  A- major  passage  in 
the  minor.  This  passage  resembles  a poem 
of  two  strophes,  of  which  the  first  pictures 
the  loveliness  of  the  flowers,  while  the 
second  laments  that  they  have  faded.  If 
the  poem  were  recited  the  elocutionist 
would  have  to  insert  a pause  between  the 
two  strophes,  to  accord  with  the  sense. 
This  pause  stands  for  the  interval  in  which 
the  change  took  place.  Just  so  should  it  be 


MUSICAI.  EXPRESSION. 


33 


with  musical  interpretation;  there  should 
be  a slight  delay  between  the  major  and 
the  minor  ; the  minor  should  slacken  its 
speed  somewhat. 

Dissonances,  too,  exert  an  influence  upon 
the  tempo.  Dissonances,  and  among  them 
the  so-called  long  appoggiaturra,  are  the 
sighs  of  music.  But  sighs  are  long,  deep 
breaths  accompanied  by  painful  emotions. 
If,  therefore,  we  hold  these  dissonant  notes 
longer,  give  them  more  emphasis,  their  an- 
alogy to  sighs  will  be  involuntarily  sug- 
gested. If  the  first  note  in  measures  twenty- 
one  to  twenty-four  of  the  Finale  of  Beetho- 
ven’s C-sharp-minor  Sonata — and  still  more 
the  third  measure  of  the  middle  movement 
of  Schubert’s  A-flat  major  Impromptu — 
are  not  sustained  somewhat,  the  passages 
concerned  will  fail  of  their  characteristic 
sighing  expression. 

Dissonant  notes  occur  more  frequently  in 
our  music  than  formerly  ; their  multiplica- 
tion is  indeed  a sign  of  our  age.  Its  nerv- 
ousness, its  sensitive,  excitable  organiza- 
tions, finds  in  them  its  expression.  Some- 
times, however,  we  have  overdone  in  this 


34 


THK  NATURAI.  I,AWS  OF 


regard.  After  a concert  whose  numbers 
were  exclusively  modern  compositions,  the 
deceased  theorist  Sechter  said  : “ I do  not 

comprehend  the  composers  of  to-day . From 
sheer  excess  of  inspiration  they  no  longer 
hear  what  they  compose.^’ 

The  so-called  perfect  cadences  exercise 
considerable  influence  upon  the  tempo. 
When  a dominant  chord  is  followed  by  a 
triad  of  the  same  key  within  the  compass  of 
an  octave  (in  C major,  e.  g.,  b-g-d-gy  c~g-e-c)y 
this  chord  progression  gives  the  impression 
of  a close.  In  order  to  prepare  for  this 
close,  we  are  inclined  to  retard  such  caden- 
ces, particularly  at  the  end  of  the  piece. 
With  Bach  and  Handel  especially,  a riiar- 
dando  is  required,  because  Bach  does  not, 
like  Beethoven  and  others,  announce  the 
approaching  close  by  suggestive  chord  repe- 
titions. If  we  do  not  retard  toward  the 
close  in  playing  Bach,  the  piece  will  seem 
to  the  listener  to  end  too  soon,  even  though 
it  may  have  already  lasted  too  long  for  his 
pleasure.  The  extent  to  which  Italian 
singers  use  the  cadence  to  insure  a brilliant 
exit  is  evinced  in  the  facetious  definition, 


MUSICAI.  EXPRESSION. 


35 


“ A cadence  is  an  applause-provoking  pass- 
age of  shrieks.^ ^ 

With  pauses  or  fermati  we  generally  re- 
tard (e.  g.,  Beethoven,  G-major  Sonate, 
Op.  14,  No.  2),  excepting  in  cases  where  the 
dramatic  pause  is  intended  to  produce  the 
effect  of  the  terrible  (Beethoven  D-major 
Sonato,  Op.  10,  eighth  measure  after  the 
repetition  in  the  first  movement). 

Occasionally  there  are  in  music,  as  in 
speech,  quotations — as,  for  example,  in 
Schumann's  ‘‘Faschungsschwank  from  Vi- 
enna," the  introduction  of  the  Marseillaise, 
or,  in  Hummel's  E-flat-major  Sonata,  the 
Hallelujah.  Such  quotations  must  be  played 
in  ‘‘quotation  marks," — that  is,  more 
broadly. 

Closer  than  these  considerations  to  the 
player  comes  the  question  whether  a pas- 
sage shall  be  played  legata  ox  staccato.  The 
second  fugue  (C-minor)  from  the  first  volume 
of  Bach's  “Well-tempered  Clavichord"  is 
marked  legato  in  Tausig's  edition  and  stac- 
cato in  Czerny's.  Well  executed,  either 
is  beautiful ; but  each  rendering  produces  a 
different  effect.  The  legato  gives  the  im- 


36  THK  NAl^URAI,  I.AWS  OR 

pression  of  a song ; the  staccato  (and  even 
the  pizzicato^  gives  the  impression  of  rhyth- 
mic movements.  If  we  hear  this  same  fugue 
legato  we  can  distinguish  in  it  the  lament 
of  an  unhappy  human  being  ; if  we  hear  it 
staccato  we  see  some  one  anxiously  fumbling 
about  in  the  dark.  The  legato  seems  in  a 
certain  degree  to  affect  the  ear  only  ; the 
staccato  appeals  to  the  eye  as  well. 

Pitch  also  has  an  effect  upon  the  tempo. 
Since  the  singer  cannot  execute  wide  inter- 
vals as  rapidly  as  those  near  together,  we 
should,  in  rendering  calm,  song-like  pas- 
sages, play  the  wide  intervals  which  are 
interspersed  with  smaller  ones,  more  slowly; 
thus,  for  example,  the  last  quarter  of  the 
twentieth  measure  of  Weber’s  A-flat-major 
Sonata,  or  the  fifth  measure  before  the 
pause  preceding  the  last,  in  the  B-minor 
Capriccio  of  Mendelssohn. 

The  longer  the  skip,  the  more  time  may 
we  take.  In  the  eighty-fifth  measure  of 
Schubert’s  A-flat-major  Impromptu,  Op. 
90,  we  take  more  time  than  in  the  eighty- 
first  measure  of  the  same  piece. 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


37 


High  notes  may  be  sustained  somewhat 
in  a slow  tempo.  Be  it  here  observed  that 
compositions  with  a single  voice  give  the 
impression  of  two  voices  as  soon  as  they 
move  in  skips  of  wide  intervals.  Thus  the 
twentieth  £)tude  in  Czerny’s  ‘‘School  of 
Velocity”  carries,  in  each  hand,  the  idea 
of  two  voices. 

The  rhythmical  division  of  the  notes  also 
affects  the  tempo.  Dotted  notes,  minute 
divisions,  such  as  occur  in  the  Bach  Sara 
bands,  retard  the  tempo.  Rhythmically 
simple  successions  of  notes,  as  those,  for  ex- 
ample, in  Czerny’s  “School  of  Velocity,” 
hasten  the  tempo. 

The  recitative  admits  of  the  greatest  free- 
dom in  tempo  ; in  it  the  fullest  attention 
can  everywhere  be  paid  to  the  distinctive 
character  of  the  music.  In  the  recitative, 
chord  arpeggios  which  move  in  the  tonal 
succession  of  the  so-called  harmonic  pro- 
gression, as  at  the  beginning  of  the  Polon- 
aise Fantasie  of  Chopin,  Op.  64,  may  be 
played  slowly,  commencing  at  the  bass, 
accelerando  to  the  treble.  But  everywhere, 
on  the  piano  as  well,  the  recitative  must 


38 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


sing ; and  for  that  reason  a sound  knowl- 
edge of  song  is  of  the  greatest  value. 

Thus,  for  example,  the  notes  of  a recita- 
tive are  often  without  designation  of  value. 
The  composer  presupposes  in  recitative  an 
understanding  of  musical  declamation,  and 
expects  that  the  practiced  artist  will  depend 
upon  his  own  intelligence  to  find  the  proper 
phrasing.  If  one  does  not  himself  sing,  he 
should  not  fail  to  hear  operatic  and  oratorio 
music,  to  cultivate  a correct  taste  for  the 
recitative. 

Not  alone  in  the  recitative,  however,  but 
in  compositions  with  a marked  rhythm, 
there  is  often  no  indication  whatever  of  the 
tempo.  This  was  more  frequently  the  case 
formerly  than  now  ; yet  even  today,  e.  g., 
in  Brahm’s  variations,  upon  a theme  from 
Handel,  we  find  no  tempo  marked.  But 
whoever  infers  from  this  that  these  varia- 
tions, so  radically  different  in  character, 
should  be  ground  out  in  a uniform  tempo 
deserves  to  be  pelted. 

Moreover,  the  writing  out  of  exact  signs 
for  delivery  is  an  extremely  difficult  and 
tiresome  matter.  In  this  regard  the  fastid- 


MUSIC AI,  EXPRESSION. 


39 


ious  pianoforte  composer,  St.  Heller,  is  a 
model. 

It  is  worth  one's  while  to  notice  how 
often  the  musician,  even  in  ad  libitum  play- 
ing, preserves  a uniformity  in  the  tempo. 
Beethoven  made  extremely  clever  provision 
for  this  when,  in  the  close  of  the  Coriolanus 
Overture,  he  wrote  out  for  the  'celli  a dying 
melody  in  note-values  so  admirably  adapted 
that  the  simple  maintenance  of  the  tempo 
produced  an  effect  of  the  most  delicate 
phrasing. 

After  so  much  has  been  said  concerning 
liberties  in  music,  it  is  indeed  high  time  to 
give  warning  against  the  abuse  and  exag- 
geration of  these  liberties  in  tempo.  Many 
of  them  are  taken  so  unconsciously  that  the 
artist  himself  who  uses  them  fancies  that 
he  is  in  perfect  time,  until  the  metronome 
convinces  him  of  the  contrary. 

In  the  simpler  forms  of  composition,  as 
for  example,  songs,  fantasies,  nocturnes, 
and  the  like,  one  may  allow  himself  greater 
liberties  than  in  heavier  works.  He  who 
has  a long  way  to  go  must  not  stop  to  notice 
every  trifle  ; but  it  is  particularly  to  be  ob- 


40 


the:  naturai,  i,aws  of 


served  that  a careful  consideration  of  pitch, 
harmonic  structure,  and  the  like,  is  more 
imperative  in  slow  than  in  fast  tempo. 

Here,  too,  we  find  our  analogy  in  life. 
If,  for  instance,  we  notice  on  our  way  to  the 
railway  station  that  we  have  a full  hour  to 
spare,  we  may  perhaps  turn  considerately 
aside  rather  than  crush  a lovely  forget-me- 
not  that  blossoms  in  our  path  ; but  if  we 
hear  the  signal  of  the  approaching  train,  we 
would  trample  down  a whole  flower  bed 
without  a pang  of  conscience.  In  rapid 
tempo  there  is  one  watchword  : ‘‘Get  there 
on  time.’’  The  more  rapid  the  tempo  the 
more  does  the  rhythm  acquire  the  ascend- 
ency. In  fast  playing  it  is  somewhat  as  in 
a battle ; the  greater  the  number  of  combat- 
ants the  more  impetuous  is  the  onset  and 
the  farther  do  personal  considerations  re- 
treat into  the  background.  Schiller’s  Wal- 
lone,  in  “Wallenstein’s  Camp,”  says  : 

The  steeds  loud  snorting,  and  on  they  go! 
Whoever  may  lie  in  the  mid  career — 

Be  it  my  brother  or  son  so  dear — 

Should  his  dying  groan  my  heart  divide, 

Yet  over  his  body  I needs  must  ride. 

Nor  pitying  stop  to  drag  him  aside. 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


41 


With  the  increase  in  the  number  of  voices, 
and  still  more  with  the  increase  in  the 
number  of  players,  the  necessity  for  a rigid 
discipline  in  the  matter  of  rhythm  becomes 
more  pressing.  Musicians  who  play  ex- 
clusively compositions  of  Chopin’s  order, 
in  which  variations  in  tempo  are  allowed, 
— nay,  even  demanded, — will  eventually 
find  themselves  unable  to  play  strictly  in 
tempo. 

For  such,  practicing  with  the  metronome 
is  the  best  remedy,  and  as  a preparation  for 
ensemble  playing  it  is  indispensable.  If 
one  plays  with  others,  one  must  in  addition 
to  his  own  measure  take  heed  to  that  of  the 
other  performers.  If  one  practices  with 
the  metronome  one  is  thus  accustomed  to 
hearing  a second  measure. 

Many  times  the  concert  player  finds  that 
he  has  to  throw  overboard  .the  interpreta- 
tion which  he  has  laboriously  worked 
out  at  home;  the  first  tempo  in  which  he 
has  studied  will  very  possibly  sound  ill,  be- 
cause the  tone  of  the  accompanying  instru- 
ments is  stronger.  Everything  requires 
more  breath.  Sometimes  in  dilettanti  or- 


42 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


chestras  the  members  lack  the  ability  to 
follow  the  artists,  etc.,  etc.  Should  the 
soloist  be  unable  to  renounce  his  own  con- 
ception and  conform  to  the  conditions 
present,  he  will  probably  fall  out  with  the 
orchestra,  or  at  least  the  rendering  will  be 
stiff;  for  every  tempo  demands  its  own 
peculiar  delivery.  If,  however,  the  player 
has,  by  way  of  precaution,  studied  a slower 
and  a faster  tempo  in  addition  to  the  one 
which  he  has  fixed  upon  as  correct,  then 
there  can  be  for  him  no  tempo  embarrass- 
ments. 

In  ensemble  pieces  the  correct  player  will 
only  find  the  tempo  rubato  safe  in  solo 
passages.  If  the  accompaniment  continues 
to  play  with  him,  he  should  accent  rhyth- 
mically in  whatever  passages  the  accom- 
paniment pauses  or  syncopates. 

If  the  accompaniment  contains  rhythmic 
motives  it  is  not  then  strictly  necessary  for 
the  solists  to  accent  rhythmically. 

‘We  frequently  find  the  tempo  indicated 
by  metronome  marks;  on  these  it  is  not 
well  to  rely  with  too  much  confidence. 


MUSICAI,  EXPRESSION. 


43 


When  Beethoven  was  requested  by  the 
Philharmonic  Society  of  London  to  send 
the  metronome  marking ' of  the  Ninth 
Symphony  he  was  unable  to  find  the  manu- 
script in  question,  and  concluded  therefore 
to  set  down  the  metronome  numbers  anew. 
Just  as  he  had  completed  the  work  the  old 
manuscript  turned  up  and  showed,  to  the 
astonishment  of  the  finder  (Schindler), 
important  differences. 

If,  now,  there  had  been,  in  point  of  fact, 
only  one  correct  tempo,  then  Beethoven 
himself  was  in  error.  But  if  Beethoven 
could  make  a mistake,  what  mortal  can 
maintain  that  his  tempo  is  correct?  And 
still  it  is  possible  that  Beethoven  was  right 
both  times. 

When  the  writer  of  this  treatise  had 
affixed  the  metronome  marks  to  his  Varia- 
tions, Op.  31,  with  extreme  conscientious- 
ness and  afterwards  accidentally  tested  the 
numbers  with  another  metronome,  he  found 
to  his  amazement  that  all  the  tempos  were 
marked  too  slow.  His  once  faultless  metro- 
nome had  by  some  accident  become  rusted, 
and  beat  decidedly  slower  than  it  should. 


44 


THE  NATURAE  EAWS  OF 


It  would  be  a mistake,  except  one  were 
playing  for  a dance,  to  try  to  play  always 
in  agreement  with  the  metronome,  just  as 
it  is  inadmissible  to  allow  the  meter  of  a 
poem  to  thrust  its  pulsations  continually 
upon  the  attention. 

One  has  only  to  hear  with  what  taste  and 
freedom  Strauss  directs  when  he  is  not 
playing  for  a dance. 

It  may  be  further  said  that  the  musician 
should  take  care  lest  he  alter  the  tempo  for 
mechanical  reasons  alone. 

Thus,  for  example,  the  piano  pupil  is 
likely  to  play  slow  notes  following  rapid 
ones,  too  quickly,  because  he  is  unable  to 
suddenly  check  the  wrist  concerned  in  the 
run  ; he  hurries  on,  toward  the  upper  por- 
tion of  the  key  board,  because  the  keys  of 
the  higher  octaves  move  more  easily;  after 
difficult  passages  he  inclines  to  proceed  with 
more  haste;  he  holds  notes  during  rests, 
because  the  hand  dawdles  upon  the  keys; 
he  cuts  rests  short,  because  his  arm,  burd- 
ened with  its  own  weight,  drops  too  soon  ; 
extensions  and  skips  he  has  a tendency  to 
play  more  slowly;  in  swift  figures  he  fails 


MUSIC AI,  EXPRESSION. 


45 


to  Strike  with  his  stiff  fourth  finger,  or  else 
strikes  too  lightly,  so  that  the  finger  which 
follows  it  comes  in  too  soon,  from  which 
reason  he  fancies  that  he  hurries,  because 
he  has  too  much  speed.  Sometimes  he  hur- 
ries and  lags  simultaneously  with  the  two 
hands,  because  the  difficulties  are  assigned 
unequally, — as,  for  example,  when  both 
hands  play  a scale  in  opposite  directions, 
beginning  together,  in  which  case  the  right 
usually  hurries,  because  the  keys  move 
more  easily,  while  the  left  retards,  because 
the  keys  give  more  resistance.  Or  the 
pianist  plays  unrhythmically,  because  he 
cannot  calculate  in  his  head  or  make  the 
divisions  properly,  etc.,  etc. 

But  even  when  he  is  in  condition  to  main- 
tain throughout  the  tempo  designated,  he 
should,  as  we  have  seen  above,  test  the 
tempo,  even  when  the  metronome  signs  are 
present ; he  should  do  this  all  the  more 
readily  when  the  tempo  is  dependent  upon 
momentary  conditions. 

It  is,  for  example,  by  no  means  a matter 
of  indifference,  as  regards  the  tempo,  what 
is  the  nature  of  the  instrument  and  of  the 


46 


THE  NATURAI,  TAWS  OF 


place  concerned  in  the  production  of  a given 
work.  As  Czerny  aptly  says  in  his  edition 
of  Bach's  “Well-tempered  Clavichord," 
the  same  fugue  requires  to  be  played  more 
slowly  upon  the  organ  than  upon  the  piano. 

The  same  adagio  can  be  played  slower 
upon  a sonorous  piano  than  upon  one  whose 
tone  is  thin.  A singer  with  a broad,  pow- 
erful voice  will  sing  rather  more  slowly  than 
another  whose  voice  is  lighter.  The  singer 
Artot,  a remarkable  artist,  disguised  her 
weak  high  notes  by  a clever  ritardando 
which  concealed  their  defects.  (Time  heals 
all  wounds.) 

Even  passing  dispositions  play  an  impor- 
tant part,  and  likewise  the  room  itself,  as 
has  been  mentioned  before,  is  not  without 
significance  for  the  tempo.  The  larger  the 
apartment  the  less  prudent  is  it  to  force  the 
tempo. 

Eeopold  Mozart,  the  excellent  teacher  of 
his  son,  the  great  Wolfgang  Amadeus, 
says  in  his  Violin  School  : “And  finally,  in 
playing  a solo  one  should  consider  the  place 
in  which  one  is  to  play.  In  a small  room 
a rapid  trill  will  have  a better  effect.  If, 


MUSICAL,  EXPRESSION. 


47 


on  the  contrary,  one  is  playing  in  a large 
hall  where  there  is  an  echo,  or  at  a consid- 
erable distance  from  his  hearers,  a slower 
trill  will  be  better.” 

Accordingly,  it  would  seem  that  expres- 
sion is  sometimes  susceptible  of  measure- 
ment by  the  cubic  foot. 

This  remark  admonishes  the  anthor  that 
it  is  high  time  he  ceased  to  extend  the 
measure  of  his  own  expression. 

If  he  shall  have  succeeded  in  inducing  in 
those  who  have  followed  him  in  a belief  in 
the  existence  of  natural  laws  for  musical 
expression,  he  will  consider  himself  richly 
rewarded  for  many  hours  of  thought  and 
study. 


f. 

t. 


